


Conquer and Devour

by the_genderman



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Blood and Injury, Bottom Ben Solo, But once again that doesn't make it ok, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, Inappropriate Use of Lightsabers (Star Wars), Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, M/M, Object Penetration, Possessive Behavior, Power Imbalance, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Rape, Ren Prime Is not Nice, The Ren (lightsaber), The encounter starts out relatively consensual but devolves, Top Ren Prime, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28000020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: “The Ren’s judgement is impartial, it doesn’t care if you live or die. It will burn the Light out of you, one way or another. All you have to do is convince it that you deserve to live.”
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Ren (SW:TRoKR)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	1. Ren

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you just get the urge to write awful people being awful. Also, this idea appeared despite not having had the chance to read any of the comics; everything I know about Ren Prime comes from Wookieepedia and other people’s twitter posts. But hey, I am a firm proponent of the canon blender-- covers a multitude of sins and/or lack of canon knowledge. In this version, Ben went to the Knights a bit younger, and that he spent a bit more time under Ren’s leadership (just going by what I gleaned from the wiki) in order to allow any kind of relationship to happen between them before he killed his mentor and took over the Knights.  
> As to the age difference and power imbalance, Ben is 19ish, Ren is in his 50s? Ben is infatuated (both with Ren and the desire for power and to forge his own path in life, which at this juncture appears to need Ren’s approval), Ren is absolutely taking advantage of that fact. You don’t get to be leader of a group of Force-sensitive Dark Side marauders by having qualms.
> 
> Apologies to the tag wranglers, I looked, but I could not find the relationship tag I wanted even though I'm pretty sure it exists out there somewhere, I just don't know how to make it show up in the drop-down suggestion box.

It was a shame that their newest would-be Knight had such a stubborn Light streak in him. Deny it though the boy might, Ren could see it in him, could see how it influenced his actions. The Dark was quicker to reach, the Dark _wanted_ to be found, wanted to find followers, wanted to be allowed to take and use and feed and spread and grow. And yet, the Light was tenacious. No matter how strongly the Dark flowed within a person, if the Light had taken root first, it would be difficult to eradicate it. The Light would have to be burned out through thorough and deliberate actions until the Dark came unimpeded, as naturally as it desired. Ren watched the boy board the _Night Buzzard_ with the rest of the Knights, hair lank with the sweat and blood and dirt of battle, an aura of predatory glee hanging around him. He had done fairly well, had killed as he had been commanded, and yet… he had hesitated, whether he realized it or not. Ren would have to do something about that.

“Ben!” Ren called out to the boy, who paused, turning to look expectantly at his mentor. “My quarters. The rest of you, you know what to do. Get us off this planet. We’ll debrief later.”

Ben paused, like he wasn’t sure if the order meant _now_ , or if he would have time to wash up first.

“You know a little blood doesn’t bother me,” Ren said, cocking his head and grinning. Putting on the charm he knew the boy had a weak spot for. He beckoned, using the gesture to throw his arm possessively around Ben’s shoulders and pulling him close. Then, quietly, just for his ears. Like it was something special, something just theirs, rather than an open secret among the Knights. “Come on, you know it’s best right after a kill, then we’ve got some things to talk about.” He met Ben’s eyes and palmed his cock through his pants.

“Of course,” Ben replied, voice covertly low, pupils already dilating. Excitement and expectation rippled off of him as he let Ren lead him.

Being the Master of the Knights of Ren, he was the only one of them allowed private quarters, and Ren made sure to take full advantage of that fact. They weren’t exactly large, but they served their purpose. He led Ben in, hand still firm on his shoulder. Possessive. He reached back with his free hand to lock the door behind them before reluctantly easing his grip. Ben shrugged him off and darted around him to the middle of the room. He turned to face Ren, an eager grin spreading across his face as he began to unbuckle his jacket, fingers fumbling slightly in his haste.

“I was thinking—” Ben began, looking up at Ren as he stripped down.

Ren raised his hand to forestall Ben. He smiled, shaking his head gently. “Ah, ah, ah, not yet.”

“But I know what name I want—”

Ren’s smile faltered briefly and he gave a low growl. This boy might be vouched for by Snoke himself, but he certainly was a handful. Between the streak of Light in him, his intelligence, and his desire always for _more_ , he would have to be brought to heel sooner rather than later if he was going to be a productive and _loyal_ Knight, not just a halfway decent fuck with a talent for the blade and an impressive handle on the Force. Ren quickly crossed the distance to Ben, grabbed him, and pulled him into a bruising kiss, hands around his neck.

“I said talk later,” Ren murmured as they parted, Ben wide-eyed and panting. Ren could feel his pulse racing under his fingers. Ah, to be young and horny. He pulled one hand back and held it out, feeling for the Force to open the locker at the foot of his bunk. Maybe he resented Ben just a little for how easily his fine control over the Force came, but he was no amateur, no mere blunt instrument as the other Jedi had demeaned his Knights. He felt the latch give and the door pop open, the little bottle zipping over to his fingers. He handed it to Ben. “Finish stripping down, get yourself ready for me. We’ll talk when I’m ready to talk and not before that.”

Ben took the bottle from him and nodded silently. Ren released him, trailing his hand slowly down his neck, over his shoulder, down his arm, and sat down on the edge of his bunk. He licked his lips, tasting blood. He wasn’t sure whose blood it was, and he didn’t particularly care. He pulled his cowl off, tossing it wildly aside, unclipped the Ren from his belt and set it on the table next to his bunk, and leaned down to unlace his boots. He watched as Ben shed his layers. Maybe the boy’s old Jedi robes came off easier, more quickly, but they didn’t suit the Knights at all, nor the boy himself. It was clear he _wanted_ to belong. He’d have to get his good kill and snuff out the Light soon, though. Ren was getting tired of waiting. He pulled his boots off, shoved them under his bunk, and rose to his feet again to trade places with Ben.

Wordlessly, Ben sprawled out on Ren’s bunk as soon as it was unoccupied. The way he watched Ren even as he worked himself open, it was clear he was bursting with questions, things he wanted to say, but he feared that if he spoke out of turn again, he’d be sent away unfulfilled. Again—to be young and horny. Ren hoped the Jedi’s rule of celibacy and Ben’s clear infatuation would end up working in his favor.

“Kriff, just look at you. Gorgeous,” Ren said, baring his teeth in a hungry grin. He pulled his glove off and unzipped his pants, shoving them down to his ankles. He stepped out of them and up to the edge of his bunk again to look down at Ben. He grabbed his cock, stroking slowly and watching Ben’s expressive face as he fingered himself. 

First thing Ren had done when he’d allowed Ben on board was make him cut off that ridiculous little braid the Jedi made their apprentices wear, but the rest of his hair was the perfect length to frame his face nicely when he was on his back—or the perfect length to get a good grip on. He was about a hand shorter than Ren, but still tall, strong from his Jedi training and showing hints of what his frame could attain with more focused work. Ben’s skin was freckled but unblemished, a stark contrast to Ren’s own scarred and burned hide. He liked that contrast, thinking of his skin pressed up against Ben’s. He was proud of his scars and what they meant: he was _alive_. And as long as Ren was alive, he meant to enjoy himself. One way or another, he was going to get what he wanted, and Ben would get what was coming to him. Exactly _what_ that would be was yet to be determined. 

“You ready yet?” Ren asked, still standing over Ben, but one hand moved to his hip, the other braced on the wall above his bunk. He stood casually, weight shifted into an easy contrapposto, but there was a tension underneath his façade. “I don’t like being made to wait.”

“Almost ready,” Ben groaned, blinking up at Ren. “You’re not exactly small.”

“Oh, I know,” Ren laughed. “But I am also not a patient man. That’s good enough.”

With that, Ren reached over, plucked the bottle of lube from Ben’s hand, and flipped the lid open. He squeezed a little too much over his fingers, letting it drip between them as he hurriedly slicked himself up. Satisfied, he climbed into his bunk, roughly pushing one of Ben’s legs up towards his chest so he could slide between them. His bunk _did_ technically fit two, but it took a bit of a contortionist to make it comfortable. Ren scooted himself into position, growled as he pushed in, and quickly covered Ben with his body. Ben gasped and wrapped his arms around Ren’s back.

Ren took up a punishing rhythm, lying heavily on top of Ben, soaking in the feelings of pain and pleasure emanating off of him, the gasps and moans and groans he made as Ren overwhelmed him. Ren lavished in it. Ben’s nails digging into his skin, little knife-pricks where his nerves weren’t too damaged to still feel. The hold he had over this strong-willed boy, the hold he shouldn’t be able to have, but _oh_ , he _did_. He had Ben right where he wanted. He’d fuck him hard, tire him out, leave him loose and suggestable, basking in awe and afterglow—Ben might be young, but he didn’t have the stamina or the practice to last yet. _Aw, poor little Jedi_ , Ren laughed to himself. He could tell from the way Ben’s breaths were coming, the clench of his hands, the twitch of his cock pinned between their bellies, he was close.

“Ren, I’m…” Ben gasped, and Ren lifted one hand to lay his fingers across Ben’s lips.

“Shhh,” Ren murmured. “No words now. Just come for me.”

Slipping his hand down to cup Ben’s jaw, Ren pulled him into another biting kiss. Devouring him, swallowing the sounds of his orgasm as he writhed and arched, still pinned under him. When Ben lay still again, catching his breath, Ren pulled out, rising lazily onto all fours but still covering him. He lifted a hand to grasp his cock, jerking himself until he brought himself over, spilling onto Ben’s stomach. Ren dropped his hand back to his sheets, chest heaving, grinning down at his would-be apprentice.

“Alright, what was it you wanted to say to me?” Ren asked, still hovering over Ben, not allowing him room to rise.

“I know what name I want to take… when I’m initiated…” Ben said, still a little out of breath.

“Oh, you do, do you?” Ren said, cocking his head. How presumptuous of the boy, to think it was a done deal, his entry into the Knights of Ren. “You’re not ready for initiation. You haven’t given me your good death yet.”

“What do you mean?” Ben asked, wrinkling his nose, eyebrows pulling in. The beginnings of resentment bubbling up inside him, his post-orgasmic laxness evaporating. “I did what you told me. I killed them—I killed _all_ of them. Wasn’t that good enough?”

“No,” Ren said simply, rolling off of Ben, turning his back to him and sitting on the edge of his bunk. He held his hand out and used the Force to pull a cigarra and his lighter out of his locker. He lit the cigarra, sitting and smoking and feeling Ben’s anger rising behind him. Well, this certainly wasn’t going as smoothly as he had hoped, but he could work with it. Anger was also good. Let him lash out. Let this be _his_ doing.

“Why not?” Ben asked petulantly. Ren felt the mattress move as Ben shifted his position, probably propping himself up on his side. “Why wasn’t it good enough? I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to. I sought you out. I _want_ this.”

“Oh, you want this, do you? Then stop holding back!” Ren snapped at him, huffing smoke angrily out of his nostrils as he twisted around to glare at Ben again.

“I’m not!” Ben argued, looking startled. 

“Yes you are,” Ren sneered. “Start taking this seriously and look at yourself compared to me, compared to any one of my Knights. You’re practically tentative. You don’t enjoy it. You’ve got too much Light in you, Jedi-boy. Snoke’s recommendation got you in the door, but your invitation is wearing thin. You need to burn the Light out of you or I’ll have to do it for you. You won’t like that.”

“So you _could_ help but you _won’t_?” Ben sneered back at him.

“I _could_ , yes, but don’t ask for something you’ll regret,” Ren said, flicking hot ash onto Ben’s chest and watching him flinch reflexively at the sting. He stood up and walked over to his locker, extinguishing his cigarra on the wall and setting it back in his locker to finish later. He’d already made his decision, but he would gladly shift the blame onto Ben, make him feel like he shared the fault, the guilt. That he had _asked_ for it.

“What do I have to do?” Ben asked, all eagerness to please again, propped up on his side, watching Ren as he slowly poked through his locker.

“Let the Ren decide,” Ren said, shrugging as he found what he wanted. A barrier and some padding. He wanted to scare the boy, hurt him, yes, but not tear him apart unnecessarily. It wasn’t that Ren didn’t believe in pain as a motivator—he fed on pain and fear and terror and despair—but if the Ren found the boy worthy, he’d need to be kept intact.


	2. Ben

_A duel? Right now?_ Ben thought, sitting up on the edge of Ren’s bunk. He hadn’t even had time to get cleaned up. He was filthy, grimy and stinking from the fighting and the fucking, but he would be ready on his feet as soon as he needed to be. His lightsaber was still clipped to his belt, thrown aside in his haste, but he could pull it to him and yank it free quickly enough. He watched Ren. He hadn’t retrieved his lightsaber yet, still standing at his locker. Ben leaned forward, peering over and trying to see what Ren was doing, what he was looking for. Wondering what he was planning. The way he spoke of his saber— _the_ Ren—it certainly sounded like he wanted to duel, but if so, then what was he waiting for? Either take up his blade and begin now, or name a time and terms.

Ben watched. He watched as Ren turned slowly towards him, hands behind his back, looking positively relaxed. He walked— _leisurely_ —over to his table, eyes on Ben the whole time. Ben stared back at him, refusing to blink first. He gripped the edge of Ren’s bunk with one hand, fingers digging into the thin mattress, his other hand clawed and grasping for the Force, ready to pull his lightsaber to him. Ren reached out and picked up his own lightsaber, tossing and catching it casually. Like he wasn’t taking this seriously. Ben’s lips curled into a snarl. Ren couldn’t accuse him of holding back, of not being serious about his desire to join the Knights and then pull this kind of nonsense. He snapped to his feet, reaching out to call his lightsaber to him.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Ren said, clicking his tongue as he raised his hand. His lightsaber was held between his curled thumb and forefinger, his other three fingers out and directing the Force. He frowned, eyebrows drawing in angrily. Ben felt his body go rigid under Ren’s control. He growled, trying to fight him off, but the older man was strong. He might not have the formal training, might not have the same potential that Ben knew he had, but he’d had more combat experience and far more time spent in the Dark. Ben struggled against his hold, fighting him the whole way, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to break his grip.

Giving a feral sound of pure rage, Ren twisted his wrist and forced Ben to his knees. Ben stared defiantly up at him as he approached, his free hand still hidden behind his back.

“ _Boy_. Did you _really_ think you were stronger than me?” Ren said, barely keeping his anger in check as he leered down at Ben. “I said you weren’t ready, and here you go proving it to me. If you really had the guts, if you really had the _strength_ in you to become one of my Knights, you wouldn’t be kneeling beneath me. You’re weak, impatient. A _child_ playing pretend. Get up. Oh, right. You _can’t_. I am _tired_ of waiting for you to fully embrace the Dark like you swore you wanted. The _Ren_ is tired of waiting! I asked you to snuff out the Light in yourself and you couldn’t! You’ve forced my hand. Let the Ren decide. The Ren’s judgement is impartial, it doesn’t care if you live or die. It will burn the Light out of you, one way or another. All you have to do is convince it that you deserve to live.”

With that pronouncement, Ren flicked his wrist and bent Ben into a low bow, an obeisance, arms pinned at his sides and his face pressed into the floor. Ben twisted his neck, turning his head and trying to peer through his hair to see what Ren was doing. Was this to be an execution? Even if he couldn’t free himself from Ren’s hold, he could probably manage to stay his blade. The cold durasteel tile dragged against his cheek as Ren twisted him around until they were perpendicular to each other. Ben’s face, turned to the side, stared at Ren’s feet. Ren knelt down and, setting his lightsaber down temptingly, combed Ben’s hair out of his eyes, tucking it almost tenderly behind his ear.

“If the Ren deems you worthy of being given another chance to give me a good death, then you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Ren said, the rage gone from his voice, replaced by a far more dangerous soft venom. He caressed Ben’s cheek. “If not? Well, you won’t be alive to worry about it for very long. It’ll hurt, though. It’ll hurt either way. But you can handle a little pain, can’t you, boy? The Dark is strong in pain.”

_Oh, I’ll give you your good death_ , Ben seethed silently, keeping those thoughts carefully hidden deep within him. _If—_ when _—I survive this, I’ll_ show _you what I’m capable of. You’re wrong. I can be patient, I can plan. I’ll make you accept me_. He gave a show of struggling, diminishing, finally ceasing. Like he was giving in, recognizing when he was beaten.

“There you go, I knew you were smart,” Ren said condescendingly. “Now, just relax. This is gonna hurt.”

With that pronouncement, Ren picked up his lightsaber and began to wind something around the studs—gauze? Padding? Ben stared, puzzled. What was he doing and _why_? As his anger had been replaced by a guise of capitulation, so too was that now replaced with confusion and curiosity. A crinkle of foil and Ben strained under Ren’s Force grip on him, trying to twist his body to where he could see what Ren was doing. 

Curiosity was quickly replaced by cold fear as Ben saw what Ren had been doing and saw a glimpse of his thoughts of what he _planned_ to do. Ren raised his eyebrows smugly. He had felt the spike of Ben’s fear.

“Figured it out, have you?” Ren said, lowering his lightsaber down so it was level with Ben’s face. 

The ring of hard, sharp-edged metal studs around the blade-emitter shroud had been wrapped with gauze, softening them. Over the gauze, over the saber, Ren had unrolled a barrier—he never wore one when they had sex, Ben didn’t realize he even kept them around. The barrier shimmered slickly under the lights. Ben’s eyes widened and he gasped wordlessly. He _wouldn’t_.

“Yeah, I would,” Ren replied with a shrug and a smirk. “I see you’ve figured out where this is going. Just remember, right now, it’s not me you’ve got to convince—it’s the _Ren_. If you survive this, _afterwards_ , that’s when you gotta start sucking up to me for that final chance to prove yourself. Now, convince the Ren not to burn the Light out of you the way you deserve.”

Ren rose to his feet again and Ben watched until he had moved behind him, where he couldn’t see him. Ben closed his eyes and tried to relax, the anticipation of the pain and the violation gnawing away at him and melding with the perverse gratitude that Ren had fucked him _properly_ just before and allowed him to open himself up. He tried to feel out with the Force, to anticipate Ren, but he was shrouding himself, leaving Ben in the dark. Every second Ren waited was torture. Ben didn’t want to give him the fear he so clearly wanted, but it bled through him, seeping through his skin like sweat.

The breach was exactly as painful as Ben had expected _and_ worse. He cried out, unable to stop the sound before he caught his lip between his teeth and bit down until he tasted blood. He whimpered, trying to will back the tears that had sprung to the corners of his eyes. If having Ren inside him was a pleasant sort of pain, _the_ Ren was nothing of the sort, even if they were roughly the same size. The Ren was cold and hard and unyielding, all wrong, like it was trying to hollow him out instead of fill him. Ben tried to reach out and feel for it, to ‘convince’ it as Ren had ordered him to do. It was different than trying to read a living being, but kyber could ‘feel.’ All he had to do— _all_ he had to do—was hold it and keep it from igniting, accidentally _or_ deliberately. He could handle the pain as long as his guts weren’t being shredded or burned out violently from within him.

A twinge. A familiar sensation crept into his belly, wrapping hot tendrils around the base of his spine. _No! This shouldn’t be happening,_ couldn’t _be happening_. Ben wasn’t sure if Ren was _trying_ to humiliate him too, or if this was simply an accident. An accident of Ren’s ‘technique,’ if it could be called that, or an accident of his body, responding to competing stimuli in whatever way made the most sense to it. Didn’t change the fact that he was definitely getting hard again, however. He was mortified that his body could betray him, to appear like he might be _enjoying_ this. He could feel the smug pleasure rolling off of Ren. Whether or not he had meant to do it, he was certainly enjoying Ben’s shame.

Ben screwed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, panting, trying to breathe through the pain and the humiliation, trying to keep his mind clear enough to hold the Ren’s kyber crystal inert. _Use_ the pain, use it to strengthen himself. Feed on it like Ren did, like the Knights did. Pain was part of the Dark, and so was he. He wouldn’t give in to fear, to weakness. He wouldn’t give Ren the pleasure of breaking him. Bending him, maybe. Bowing him, but not breaking him. He had wholeheartedly embraced the Dark, no matter what Ren might think, and if that meant enduring this, bottling up this impotent rage and using it to fuel him later, then he _would_. Every thrust of the Ren, every jolt of pain, every beat of his heart, every reminder that he was still alive added power to his conviction. He would let Ren win this round; he would live and lie and pretend and then, when the time was right, release all of his anger and hate and take his revenge. Let Ren think that he had subdued him and beaten him loyal. He’d get his good kill, he’d get his knighthood, and he’d get his revenge. He wasn’t sure what that would be, yet, but he was sure he’d know what to do when it happened. All in time.

He came again with a sobbing gasp, his mind a twisting, electric storm of pain and anger and unwanted pleasure and a sudden sharp fear that he was going to lose control of the Ren’s kyber crystal _now_ , at the end of it, and all of his deference and rage would amount to nothing. The Ren stilled, withdrew slowly, and Ben finally allowed himself to release his tension, his fight, and go limp in Ren’s hold. He allowed himself to appear beaten. Filthy, empty, cold. Used and subdued.

“Seems like the Ren thinks you’ve still got potential,” Ren said slowly. Ben felt a grudging respect emanating from him, like he hadn’t expected this outcome. A rough finger was run almost gently against his abused hole, checking up on him like this had just been any of their other trysts. Ren chuckled. “Not even bleeding that much. Good for you. Get some bacta gel up there; I’ll have a droid leave some on your bunk. Tomorrow we’ll work out how you’re gonna give me that good death you owe me. Now get out of my sight.”

With that, Ren released his Force hold and Ben collapsed onto the floor. He picked himself up slowly, not looking up, not meeting Ren’s face, but knowing he was watching him nonetheless. Still pretending, still playing the conquered. When he got to his feet, Ren shoved his clothes and gear into his arms, balled up haphazardly around his boots, and practically pushed him out of the door of his quarters. 

Ben stood in the hall, naked and blinking. Well, that was that. He frowned, letting his stored rage settle more comfortably within him. Tomorrow. He’d begin planning tomorrow.


End file.
